by Tracey Ward
“Then how did you? You texted me right before I went into the house.”
“Online. I logged into my cell account and sent it through the internet. So, you got it before you went in? You didn’t get jumped?”
“I did. They were waiting inside.”
His face drops. “I’m so—”
“Do me a favor,” I interrupt. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry again.”
“I know you’re mad, but I didn’t know want to do it. I was scared.”
“I get that.”
“You have a gun and a whole gang at your back. I don’t have shit. When they came in, I thought I was dead. I seriously thought I was going to die.”
“I know.”
“Then what… What are we gonna do?” he asks uncertainly. My calmness is throwing him off, setting him on edge. I can see the rise in his shoulders, his hands coming up to chest height. He might not realize it but he’s moved into a defensive position, like he’s afraid I’m going to hit him.
I’m still wondering if I might.
I take a deep breath, holding it in as I survey his apartment. His swollen eye. His shaking fingers.
I release the breath slowly. “You’re done. You’re out.”
Harrison’s hands lower slightly. “What?”
“You’re out,” I repeat clearly. “The game has changed. It’s not what it used to be. It’s more dangerous now and you can’t be in it. You’re right. I have more protection than you do and I thought by keeping you a secret from the Due that I was keeping you safe, but I was wrong. I fucked up too. But I’m going to fix it.”
“By freezing me out?”
“Yeah. Basically.”
“What the fuck, Josh?” he demands angrily.
I raise my eyebrows. “Are you sure you wanna take that tone with me today?”
He calms immediately, retreating back into himself. “I know I screwed up, but I thought I was going to die.”
“I heard you.”
“Then give me another chance.”
“I can’t even if I wanted to. The Due will want answers on how this happened and I’m going to have to stand in their den with them and tell them I refuse to give you up. I don’t know how that’s going to play out for me.” I gesture dismissively to his eye. “Probably worse than that, so don’t give me shit, alright?”
“You won’t give me up to them?” he asks hesitantly.
“We’re brothers. I’d never do that to you.”
My words hit him harder than the Hawks fist he took to the eye. He flinches, his face contorting with regret.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
“I told you to stop saying that shit.”
“Sor—I know.”
“You said they took your phone?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Fuck,” I mutter into my palm, running my hand over my mouth slowly. “They have our buyer’s information.”
“Oh shit, I didn’t even think about that. What do you think they’ll do with it?”
“Threaten us. Blackmail us. Try to run us out of business.”
“When you say ‘us’, you’re talking about you and the Due, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Harrison looks down at his hands, gripping them together tightly. “I don’t know, man. I just think… I wonder if you’re not getting in too deep with them. This was supposed to be a short term thing, right? And now you’re cutting me out and going in deeper with them. You’re always with them. I never see you anymore, even at class. You never used to skip and now you’re only going, like, half the time.”
“I’m still passing.”
“Yeah, but you used to ace everything. What are your grades looking like this term?”
Shit. They’re looking like total shit because when I say I’m passing, I’m barely passing. They’re so bad, I’ve considered doing something I swore to myself that I’d never do.
I consider hacking into the school database to fix my grades.
It’d be an easy fix, but I have misgivings. I like to earn what’s mine. I don’t want anything handed to me and stealing something like that feels wrong on a level I’m not ready to ascend to. It’s my own fault I’m almost failing. I spend every spare second I have with Raw and Skeeze at the bar or at Raw’s apartment. Out at parties. On the road learning to ride. Going on errands for the club. I’m knee deep in Due business and the truth is, I love riding with them. It gets me closer to Harlow, sure, but even if she wasn’t there, I’d still do it. I like the feel of a bike under my bones. I like the way people look at me when I roll into a room, everyone assuming I’m one of the Devil’s Due. Women edge in closer. Men take a step back. It’s a kind of respect I’ve never had before. I’ve always been lesser than everybody else. Poor and inbred. Disgusting. But when I’m with the Due, there’s a kind of deference in the way people look at me, and I like that feeling. I won’t apologize for it. I feel like after all these years of busting my ass, I fucking earned it.
“Do me a favor,” I tell Harrison, ignoring his question. “Cancel the number on that cell phone, then email me the list of buyers. I need to get on damage control ASAP.”
“I can get in touch with people for you.”
“Just send me the list.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
I look around the chaos at our feet, but for what, I don’t know. Whatever it is, I don’t find it. When I look up at Harrison again, I still have to leave. I still can’t be friends with him anymore.
It’s a sobering truth.
I offer him my hand. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
He looks at me with a half-smile, his eyes hooded. Hurt. “Yeah, man.” He takes my hand, stepping into a hug with me. “You too.”
“If you have any more trouble from—”
“I’ll see you around campus,” he interrupts abruptly, stepping out of my hold.
I pinch my lips together, nodding. Stalling. “Yep. I’ll see you around.”
With nothing else to say or do, I turn to leave. I put my back to one of my only friends, cutting ties with a part of my life I never saw myself saying goodbye to. I didn’t imagine I’d deal drugs forever, but I thought I’d be tight with Harrison for at least a few more years. I expected it to be marriage and kids that drifted us apart, not biker gangs and drug deals that cut us clean in two.
This isn’t the life I imagined for myself, but this is the life I’ve got.
It’s the one I’m good at.
It’s the one I want.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Harlow
I don’t feel right. I feel light and heavy at the same time. Dizzy and elated. Scared.
I’m ashamed of the fact that I’m afraid. A normal person would tell Josh about it. She’d let him push those fears away, but I’m not sure if he can. It’s too fucked up. I’m too fucked up. Too insane. What kind of person is afraid of being happy? Who wants to cut and run because things are too good? To hide behind nothing because nothing is so much easier than all this something. You can lose something. You can miss it and regret it and be hurt by it. But nothing will never leave you because it was never there. Nothing is simple. Nothing is safe.
What I feel for Josh is everything. It’s all consuming and suffocating, like a dam broke last night and the whole of my being is flooding my body, drowning me. Killing me slowly. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. The only solution, the only thing that makes any sense to me, is to run. It’s wrong and it’s not a solution, but it’s all I know. It’s all I can do to save myself. To keep my head above water.
I feel the way I did three years ago when Josh was lying on top of me, fitted so perfectly inside of me that I felt all of him. Every breath. Every heartbeat. Every sigh in his soul as it spilled into mine. It was too much then and it’s too much now. I’m not built for this. I’m too broken to hold myself afloat. Cracks are spreading, leaks are springing, and there’s only one place for me to go. Only one person who can pull me back together
.
“Pops, I hope you’re ready to get your butt kicked,” I call out to him as I step into his room, “because I Googled the rules to playing Gin and I’m ready for you this time, you crafty old—”
My words and my heart stop simultaneously, put on pause by big brown eyes, broad shoulders, and a sexy smile.
“—son of a bitch,” I finish weakly. “Josh, what are you doing here?”
“It’s Thursday,” he reminds me calmly. “I always visit Pops on Thursday.”
Pops grins broadly. “Harlow, come on in. We were just about to play a hand.”
I hesitate, not sure if I’m staying or going.
Story of my life.
Josh sees it. He watches me closely, waiting for me to figure myself out. I expect him to be gentle with me. To look at me with support and compassion the way he usually does, but that’s not what he’s giving me at all. He’s challenging me with his eyes, burning me with a gaze that I’m grateful Pops doesn’t see. It’s too real. Almost physical in the way it caresses me. The way it touches me inside and out, setting me on fire with a carnal hunger I can feel through every nerve in my body.
If Pops wasn’t in the room, I’d mount Josh right here, right now. All because of a look.
Josh shuffles the cards expertly, his eyes hard on mine. “What’s it going to be, ‘Low? Are you in or out?”
“In,” I answer defiantly. I drag an extra chair up to Pops’ bed, sitting down solidly across from Josh. “I’m all in.”
He smiles crookedly. “You sure?”
“You wanna test me?”
“Every second of every day.”
I feel myself flush, my body going hot and sinuous. It’s the wrong time, wrong place, wrong company, but it is what it is. This is how I love Josh – always. Completely.
Josh hands out cards with the blinding efficiency of a Vegas dealer. Every time he looks at me, his smile widens.
So does my heart.
Pops bows out, letting us play against each other the first round. He seems perfectly content to sit between us, glancing back and forth at our faces with a satisfied grin.
“About goddamn time,” he mutters.
I pick up my cards. “What is, Pops?”
“You two.”
“Learning to play Gin,” Josh fills in immediately. I catch him cast Pops a meaningful look. “It’s about goddamn time we actually figured out how to play.”
“It’s so good to look at,” Pops agrees emphatically.
Josh’s shoulders sag.
I frown, confused. “You mean, it’s good to see?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” I mumble, looking to Josh for some clarity. He’s engrossed in his cards, pretending like this conversation isn’t happening, never mind the fact that it’s really weird.
Josh wins the hand. It’s no surprise. He’s smarter than I am at pretty much everything. Everyone is. But then Josh plays Pops and I get to sit back sipping my beer, watching the tide as it turns.
“You stacked the cards,” Josh accuses Pops, glaring at his hand.
Pops laughs. “You dealt.”
“And shuffled the deck,” I remind him. “Stop being a bad loser, Josh.”
“I’m not losing.”
“It doesn’t look like winning.”
“I’m in the middle of my comeback.”
I look sideways at Pops who glances down at the scorecard in front of him. He checks the numbers before subtly shaking his head at me.
I grin into my beer.
Suddenly, Pops grimaces, his breath tightening.
I sit up straight, reaching for his arm. “Are you okay?”
“What happened?” Josh asks urgently.
Pops waves us away, his face still contorted with pain. “Nothing. It’s nothing. It’ll pass.”
“It’s not nothing,” I insist.
“It’s a muscle spasm. I’ve had them in my back lately.” He tosses his cards on the rolling table in frustration. “It’s from being cooped up in this damn bed.”
I rub his arm slowly. “I’m sorry, Pops.”
“I’ll be alright in a minute.”
Josh rolls the table away. He’s quick, but I notice him hit the call button for the nurse as he does it. He also clears the two beers Pops and I have been drinking. “You need to take your muscle relaxer.”
“Ah, I hate those things. All they do is make me sleep. I’d rather talk to you kids.”
“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Josh promises. He reaches down to take his grandpa’s hand. “Don’t hurt yourself for us.”
“We’ll be back first thing in the morning,” I agree, squeezing his arm. “I’ll bring my big purse. Everyone gets a beer tomorrow.”
“Yeah, where was mine, by the way?” Josh teases.
“I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“You sure about that?”
I glare at him and his intelligence. His extra perception of me that borders on supernatural.
A nurse I’ve never seen before appears in the doorway. “Is everything okay in here?”
Josh nods to Pops. “His back is hurting him. He needs his cyclobenzaprine.”
The nurse checks the chart on the wall. “It looks like he refused it an hour ago, just before you got here. I’ll bring it in with his dinner in a couple minutes?”
“Thanks, Janice.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”
With Nurse Janice gone, I take the beer cans from Josh. Mine is empty and, just like last time, Pops’ is nearly full. I empty it in the bathroom sink, shaking out the excess before stowing it away in my purse.
When I come out of the bathroom, Josh is leaned over Pops, the older man muttering in his ear. I hold back, watching as Josh nods his head now and then, listening intently. He laughs at one point, his head falling forward against Pops’ narrow shoulder. I quickly pull my cell out of my pocket to take a picture of them; Pops with a grin on his face, his eyes half-closed with laughter, his hand held in Josh’s. His other hand on Josh’s shoulder.
I’ll never ask what they’re talking about. I don’t need to know. All I want from this moment is a memory, a snapshot of love, trust, and closeness that makes my heart swell with happiness, the same happiness that Josh poured into me last night. The joy that I’ve been drowning in all day. It was overwhelming before, but it feels manageable looking at them. It feels right and good, like maybe dying isn’t such a bad thing. It’s how people change. It’s how they’re reborn; by casting off the demons that claw at their back, walking willingly into the water, and being baptized as something new. Changed for the better.
When Pops’ dinner shows up, we tell him goodbye. I give him a kiss on the cheek. He does the same, the thin feather light feel of his lips brushing across my skin like a bird’s wing.
“I love you, Harlow,” he whispers to me, holding onto my arm to keep me close. “You’re stronger than you feel and smarter than you know. Never forget that, my girl. And when he reminds you, listen.”
“When who reminds me?”
He releases me, letting me stand up straight. He’s smiling mildly, but he doesn’t answer.
I don’t need him to.
“Bye, Pops,” Josh says, hugging him one last time. “We’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“If I’m not dead.”
My mouth drops open, my heart stopped by shock.
It only gets worse when Josh laughs. “Right. Yeah. Unless you’re dead.”
I manage another smile for Pops as Josh ushers me out of the room, leaving behind the scent of rice, gravy, and mint swirling around him. And, maybe I’m paranoid, but there’s also the faintest whisper of beer lingering around the bathroom door.
Out in the hall, I turn to Josh and punch him hard in the shoulder.
“Ow,” he grunts, fainting back a step. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, exactly. What the fuck, Josh?”
“What?”
“‘If you’re not dead’? For real?”
&nb
sp; “It’s a thing he says,” he argues defensively. “He doesn’t say that to you when you leave?”
“No. Why would he say that to me? And why would you ever say it back?”
He shrugs. “If you can’t beat ‘em and all that shit. Look, he’s said that to me every time I’ve left this place for the last year. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just some morbid old dude crap that he likes to do. He’s allowed. He’s eighty-three.”
I frown, still sick in my heart. “I don’t like it.”
“That’s probably why he doesn’t say it to you.” He nudges me playfully, casting me that crooked grin that does strange things to my insides. “He knows you can’t take it, ya pussy.”
“Yeah, well, he just told me I’m stronger than I feel, so, suck it, bitch.”
Josh’s smile darkens. His body closes in. “Just tell me where.”
“Where what?”
He leans in, kissing my cheek delicately. His mouth drifts in close to my ear, covering it with warm breath and wet lips. “Tell me what you want me to suck and I’ll suck it, right here. Right now.”
My knees are weak. My breathing destroyed. My body is electric and humming, vibrating at a frequency only he can match. I’m ready to explode and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
Fuck, this man owns me, body and soul.
I take a tremulous breath, turning my face into his. The scruff on his cheek brushes my sensitive skin abrasively, the feeling deliciously painful. “I’ve never come in a nursing home before.”
“That’s sexy.”
I chuckle, my body shaking with the reaction.
It stills when Josh’s hands touch mine.
“There’s an empty room two doors down,” he whispers seriously. “You in?”
“Are you sure about this?” I ask him nervously, my heart flying in my chest as I give him this one last shot. One final out to save himself from me and all my crazy. “Are you sure about me?”